Blooming and Undiscouraged
by madmax160
Summary: Gren/Vicious, Spike/Jet, and others. Yaoi. NOW COMPLETED!! Please review! Thanks reviewers!
1. Brutality

Disclaimer: I .. Have no disclamation over this disclaimer, or...Wow, disclaim is a nifty word. Anyways, enjoy!  
  
GRENCIA MARS ELIJAH GUO ECKNER  
  
Sipping his drink, Gren felt eyes boring against his back. He cringed and gripped the glass with both hands, the knuckles of his fingers whitening. Oh, no, not again.  
  
He felt someone sit next to him at the barstool, and did not glance at them. He could only imagine what they wanted.  
  
"Hey, sweet cheeks. You look lonely," came the gruff voice next to him.  
  
"No, not at all," Gren replied and sipped his drink, drumming his delicate manicured fingers against the bar.  
  
"Looks like you want some sugar, hey baby?" The man reached an arm around Gren. Gren pushed him away. He was small, but he was strong.  
  
"I've heard about you. Gren, right? Yeah. A friend of mine said you were real easy. So, wanna fuck?"  
  
Gren's nostrils widened in fury, but he coached himself to stay calm.  
  
"You're not going to play hard to get now, are you? Come on, baby -" the man reached in to pull him close, but Gren brushed his arm across the bar, knocking his and the man's drinks into the man's lap. The man stood, furious, revealing his true immensity. He must have been a good 6'5", and two-hundred and sixty pounds at the least. Every bit of him was hard and muscular.  
  
Gren merely got up and walked out.  
  
He was surprised, however, that the big man did not follow him. He was relieved, nonetheless. As he continued home, it seemed that the silence was too thick for the neighborhood, especially for an early 3:00 am.  
  
As he turned a corner, he was pulled back by a mammoth arm, one around his arms and torso and the other covering his mouth. He struggled against the huge arms, confident that, despite his small size, his strength would hold up. He had no chance.  
  
He was pinned against the wall of an alley, in the shadows. He continued to struggle and looked up. The man at the bar. He knew he had given up too easily; now the man wanted payment.  
  
"Hey, sweet cheeks," the man growled. Gren fought against the hardness of the big man, but to no avail. The man wouldn't budge in the slightest. Gren fought harder, trying to bite, kick at his crotch, feeling utterly degraded and helpless. The man pressed Gren between himself and the wall, crushing the breath out of the smaller man. Gren gasped for air, his ribs cracking beneath the weight of the man. The man pulled away, but only enough to spin Gren around and then began crushing him again. Gren began to cry out for help, but because he was not able to intake any air, nothing escaped but a hoarse murmur.  
  
He was going to die.  
  
"You ruined my pants, babe, my new pants, and you ruined my night, so you owe it to me -" the man rumbled. He pulled away slightly, and Gren tried to take the advantage to spin away and run, but was pressed back, catching a glimpse of the man pulling out his taut, hard penis. Gren let out a short scream, but was silent as he was thrust forward against the wall and air was propelled from his lungs. He felt his clothes being ripped off, and he tried to struggle but was only able to wriggle a bit. The man pressed him against the wall and entered him with a grunt. Gren let out a feeble squeal and dug his fingers into the brick alley wall, breaking several fingernails.  
  
Suddenly there was a gunshot. The huge man inside him suddenly pulled out and went soft. He stumbled back and Gren collapsed to the ground, gasping for any amount of oxygen the good Lord would spare to him (not that he believed in any Lord, especially not after this event). He turned and saw a puddle of blood pooling towards him. The man was dead. Another man, silhouetted against the outside world, stood over him.  
  
Gren tried desperately to cover himself, his pale, sweaty face reddening, partly from the man having to see his nakedness, but more largely because the man had to witness Gren's helplessness.  
  
The man tossed him a light colored trench coat. Gren caught it and put it on, covering himself.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
"I.I'll be fine, I'm sorry, I -" Gren trailed off, embarrassedly.  
  
"You got a home to go to?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You better get there, take care of yourself."  
  
"..Thank you."  
  
The man smiled, put a cigar in his mouth, tipped his hat and began to walk away.  
  
"Wait - Your trench coat."  
  
"You can keep it," the man shouted, not turning back.  
  
Gren got up silently, and went home.  
Thanks so much, and please Review! There will be more Spike, Jet, Vicious and others in near future, I promise. 


	2. Black Dog

JET "BLACK DOG" BLACK  
  
Jet shivered as he walked into the motel room, rubbing his right fist under his shirt to warm it.  
  
"Where you been?" came the voice of his companion.  
  
Jet shook his head and replied, "It's cold out there."  
  
"You shoulda worn a coat," Spike replied, lighting a cigarette.  
  
"I did. Had to give it up," Jet sat on one of the motel beds. The ship had broken, and they had to send it to a shop for repairs and stay in a motel for a few days. The girls and Ein had their room (Ein's for a "small" extra fee) and Spike and Jet shared their own. Each room had two beds. The motel was far from a five star hotel, but this was Jupiter, after all.  
  
The beds weren't too comfortable, but they were washed frequently, at least, they had no stains and they smelled faintly of detergent. The walls were thick, so if you spoke with a normal voice no one could hear you from other rooms, but every night squeaking and banging and grunting from beyond the walls.  
  
They had been wary of giving the girls a room of their own, worrying about the horndogs that might be able to sneak in and take advantage of them. Many men on this planet hadn't seen a real woman in years, and they might be the only girls on the planet. However, Faye was not easily overpowered, and Ed was nimble enough so that if anyone was able to catch her, they were more accountable than Jet, Spike and Faye combined.  
  
"Where's it go?" Spike asked, referring to Jet's coat.  
  
"Some - guy," Jet waved his hand as if to say it was nothing.  
  
"Some guy - what?"  
  
"He was cold and exposed, so - "  
  
"Oh, oh, oh, oh - I get it," Spike laughed.  
  
Jet looked at him. "Get what?"  
  
"You've been on Jupiter too long, my man!"  
  
"What? No! It was Nothing like that! He - He was being attacked, so I saved him, and - "  
  
"He gave you a nice thank you?" Spike chuckled.  
  
"Damn you, Spike!" Jet snarled. "I'm not going to tell you if you're going to be an ass!"  
  
"Fine, I'm listening."  
  
Jet stared at Spike, his eyes narrowed and his lips pressed tight together.  
  
"I don't want to tell you, now."  
  
Spike scowled at Jet.  
  
Jet scowled at Spike.  
  
Jet had to wonder. 


	3. Mr Saxophone meets the Doctor

Hey, guys! I'm on a fix, if you like this, review and I'll write more, or at least post more, but I dun wanna take the time to post if everone thinks my fics are shitty-cakes. So--- REVIEW!  
  
GRENCIA MARS ELIJAH GUO ECKNER  
  
Gren decided he wasn't able to play the next day. When he awoke at noon and the pain was still unbearable, he decided the doctor might be, if not the best, but the only possible decision he could make. He was hesitant; he didn't trust doctors very much, but on Jupiter even the doctors were bounties in hiding, therefore, very little threat to him.  
  
He decided to go to the doctor not because he was in pain, but because of the pain he could not play his sax. Not being able to play was like Hell, because music meant money, but beyond that music heals, music purifies, and music gives what no human can.  
  
He called the doctor and they decided to meet on the terms of secrecy. The doctor had told him that most of his patients preferred confidentiality, so he was no special case. Gren doubted that anyone would be able to track him down even if he was required to provide his identity, but he felt safer with the secrecy.  
  
He arrived at the doctors at four twenty-six that afternoon for his four thirty appointment. The waiting room was grey, with blues and whites giving a sad attempt of color to the room. There were a few black and white photos on the walls, and slate blue vinyl waiting chairs lined up against the walls.  
  
Across the room sat a lanky, pale-skinned man with dark hair giving his white face an eerie blue shadow. Aside from his paleness, he wore silver rings, on his fingers, around his neck, in his ears up to the tops of his cartilage, his nose, his lip, his eyebrow. The man noticed Gren watching him and his cheeks tinted pink. Gren looked away, afraid to embarrass the man, but admiring how outrageous yet unpredictably shy he was.  
  
The doctor came into view, sporting a white coat but otherwise not very doctorly when it came to formal wear. He was wearing jeans and a sweater under his coat, but he seemed professional enough.  
  
He motioned for Gren, and Gren stood, the pain in his ribs thrusting spots in front of his eyes and the pain made him feel most literally sick to his stomach.  
  
The doctor offered him a chair and Gren took it, leaning back and easing the pain off of his ribs. He told the doctor his story, about the man at the bar, and at the alleyway, and then the other man who saved him. The doctor looked worried.  
  
"If your ribs are hurting you that badly, you should have gone to the hospital, not to me," the doctor started, but hesitated in seeing the look Gren gave him. "Let me - let me see, take off your shirt."  
  
Gren hesitated, a look of embarrassment coloring his face red. He put his fingers to the top buttons of his shirt, but changed his mind and unbuttoned from the bottom going up. The doctor flinched at first at the purple-black-yellow bruises on his upper stomach, but his eyes widened in shock as more buttons came undone.  
  
"You - you're a - "  
  
"I'm a man. So do what you have to do and let me put my shirt back on."  
  
The doctor swallowed hard and wrung his fingers. Not often did he see a man with real breasts, or breasts at all, for that matter - and not just the titties of lazy living, but real, honest to god, perky, plump, quivering breasts - Gren had seen a million men like him, but was surprised and almost charmed when the doctor forced himself to focus of the bruises as opposed to his unnatural bosom. He was quite respectful - although he tended to stammer as he spoke afterwards - but he tried hard to be professional about the situation, and it showed.  
  
"I don't think anything's broken, only bruised, but maybe x-rays - you may have to go to the hospital."  
  
"I don't trust hospitals."  
  
The doctor looked at Gren.  
  
"Well, stay off your feet for awhile then. If it gets worse, then you may have to. If somethings broken, then..."  
  
"Then I'll go but until then ..."  
  
"Of course."  
  
They spoke for a few more minutes, and Gren thanked the doctor, put his shirt back on and left.  
  
His real problem was beyond the pain of his ribs. He was alone, and not merely alone in the lusty sense of the word, but in every sense. There was no one to care about him anymore, and he wasn't the man he used to be, he couldn't protect himself. He had no one to turn to. Not family, a friend, a companion...  
  
He had one of those once. It was ruined; more than the relationship, but his life. His invulnerability, for one. His ability to trust, and love. His manhood was decreasing - not that he wasn't well endowed down there, he was a firecracker once you let it off, but usually he didn't let it let off, and then there were those....those....  
  
The truth was, he needed someone, like he never used to truly admit. People destroyed you, while music did not, but in the end, a saxophone wouldn't shoot your attacker -  
  
And maybe he was just depressed. Losing what he had had been hard, but he had taken harder blows before. Surely, this would be no different. Besides, the pain in his ribs was cutting deeper, making his vision blur.  
  
He heard shouting, and pulled the trench coat he was wearing tighter around him.  
  
"WHaddya mean the goddamn part won't be in til next Monday?! I've got things to do - "  
  
"I'm sorry, sir, but your ship - well, it's getting up there in years - "  
  
"The Bebop is a beauty, and she's not old. Just fix her up!"  
  
Gren tried to avoid the fighting men, but ran into one of the men who was leaving. When he in normal circumstances could have kept his footing, he lost his balance and hit the ground.  
  
"Hey, you alright?"  
  
Gren pulled himself into a fetal ball, squeezing his eyes shut until tears sprang up and clenched his jaw until he felt blood bubble around his tongue and between his teeth. A warm darkness encased him and he sighed a deep sigh.  
  
Hello, darkness, my old friend.... 


	4. Sleeping Beauty Wakes

This one is short, but it's for Spike fans! More to come! Vicious Fans, he'll show up, I promise!!  
  
SPIKE SPEIGEL  
  
The man had been out for about four hours, and he didn't seem to up to awakening. Jet flitted around like a nervous bird, not sure exactly how to assess the situation, trying to use any means possible to wake him up.  
  
Spike decided the man looked like a Pretty-boy. Jet insisted that it was rude - ("Even though he is attractive, not that I'm looking, saying things like that is simply rude") - but to Spike, he was Pretty-boy.  
  
Spike almost found it funny, seeing Jet spaz every time Pretty-boy moved. After several hours, Jet still sat by him, and Spike was starting to get irritated.  
  
"If he gets blood on the bed, you're paying the fine."  
  
"Shut your face, Spike. This guy needs our help."  
  
Spike lit a cigarette and put his hand behind his head.  
  
"Maybe he needs a hospital."  
  
"Well maybe he has reasons for not going, like he's wanted or something, so lets wait until he wakes up."  
  
"Shit. He's probly dead."  
  
"He's breathing."  
  
"He could be in a coma or something."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
Spike looked out the window. Jet was becoming too preoccupied with Pretty- boy, and Spike smelled bad news. They didn't know this guy, his story, and he seemed not as much a victim as Jet perceived him to be.  
  
"He's waking up!!" Jet said excitedly. Spike looked over at them.  
  
Pretty-boy groaned, brushed bangs from his face. Strands stuck to his face, the sweat giving his face a sultry sheen. Spike noticed Jet lick his lower lip and help him brush the hair from his face.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
"Oh - " Pretty-boy sat up, moaned aloud.  
  
"Are you alright?" Jet asked.  
  
Pretty-boy held his stomach, wiped blood from his chin, and smiled up at Jet.  
  
"Fine, thank you. Your - your coat, I'm afraid I might have stained it," he said, indicating a tacky crimson stain on the shoulder of the trenchcoat.  
  
"Don't worry about it - it's yours now remember?"  
  
"Ah, yes, that's it. It's my coat that's stained." Pretty-boy smiled again but once again gave in to wracking coughs, specks of blood flying from his mouth and onto the palm of his hand. Jet put his hand on Pretty- boy's back, trying to calm his coughing fit.  
  
"Maybe you need a hospital - " Jet started.  
  
"No, no hospital. I'm sure I'll be fine."  
  
"Hey, don't sue us for holding you back," Spike grumbled.  
  
"My name is Gren."  
  
"Jet. And the ass in the corner is Spike."  
  
The man - Gren - Pretty-boy - smiled through blood stained teeth. It seemed his teeth would be otherwise pretty damn white, like the teeth of a performer. He shook despite his obvious attempts to look poised.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"When the man....that man...attacked me, he pushed me pretty hard against the wall. I went to the doctor. He said - " Gren hesitated.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"That I should be fine in a few days. Of course. He said no need to go to the hospital."  
  
"If it gets too bad - "  
  
"It's not too bad," Gren insisted. Spike scowled.  
  
"Whatever you say, Pretty-boy. I'm going out, Jet. I'll check on the girls," Spike put out his cigarette and walked out. 


	5. Fallen Angels

VICIOUS  
  
After searching for several years with no avail, attempts began to pay off. They heard from a man who lived on Jupiter, saying that a saxophonist played at a bar down the block. He expected to be paid handsomely; Vicious had no time for bargains, so when he learned what he needed, the man was paid his dues. A quick slit of the throat, and the deal was done.  
  
He didn't want to scare his "bounty" off, so he didn't attack immediately, but when they raided his apartment they were surprised to see he wasn't there. After searching, they found a phone number setting by the phone. From there, Vicious' associate, Lin, called the number and it revealed to be the number of a doctors office.  
  
Vicious insisted that they interrogate the doctor. They arrived at an odd business hour when the secretary was getting ready to leave. Vicious took care of him quickly.  
  
They walked into the doctors office, where the doctor sat signing papers. Vicious spoke, startled him, and he dropped papers all over the floor. As the doctor turned to speak to his intruders, Vicious put a katana blade to his throat.  
  
"You will give me the information I want. You understand?"  
  
Vicious was delighted with the feeling of the doctor quivering with fear under his grip.  
  
"I - I understand."  
  
"Good. I believe a man named Gren called you. His full name is Grencia Mars Elijah Guo Eckner. Did he come to visit?"  
  
The doctor made a grunt of confusion.  
  
"I - I don't ask for identification, or anything, I don't know the names of the men I help. They pay up front, so I have no need."  
  
"He has exceptional beauty. His eyes are blue, and his hair is black and very long. I am sure you would recognize him if you saw him?"  
  
The doctor paused tentively.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Do you know where he is?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Are you lying?"  
  
"No."  
  
"If you are, I will be angry."  
  
"I'm not lying."  
  
"Good."  
  
Blood spilt to the floor and the doctor made a wet gurgle as he dropped to his knees. Vicious frowned.  
  
"We'll go back to his apartment. Find what we need. Find him."  
  
The doctor was writhing on the floor.  
  
Vicious took a step back as the blood pooled to his feet.  
  
"Let's go."  
  
Authors notes: I promised Vicious, so here he is! More will come. 


	6. Bitter sweet

EDWARD WONG HAU PEPELU TIVRUSKY IV  
  
Quiet is the predator who stalks his prey, each movement silent and one step closer to his feeding. He bares his teeth and sniffs the air, making sure he is one the right trail.  
  
He can see it. He perks back his ears, presses his belly against the floor, and pounces.  
  
"RAR! RAR! RARRAAAAAR!"  
  
"Hey, Ed, away from the food," said Jet-Jet, wrapped his arm around Ed's middle and picked her up.  
  
"huuuuun-gryyyy," Ed moaned.  
  
"Where's Faye?" Jet asked, setting Ed down on a bed and putting food on a plate.  
  
Ed reached for the plate, wiggled her fingers.  
  
"PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESE!"  
  
So hungry, so HUNGRY!  
  
"Take a chill pill."  
  
Ed snatched it - oh, so fastly-like! - and devoured it.  
  
A yip from Ein, as he jumped on the bed.  
  
"No, Ein-Ein, Ed's food!"  
  
"Here Ein, eat this," Jet said, putting a plate of food on the floor.  
  
Ed finished her food and did a happy dance. She jumped to the other bed.  
  
"No, Ed!" Jet pulled her from the bed.  
  
"OWie!" Ed squealed.  
  
"Sh, sh. Look, see? Sleeping." Jet motioned to the bed.  
  
"Spi-Spi?"  
  
"No, see? He's a guest. He's hurt, yeah? So we're trying to make him better, so let him sleep."  
  
Ed tiptoed to the bed. Sleepy guest? She pulled the covers back.  
  
"So pretty..."  
  
"Don't wake him up."  
  
Ed put her fingers to her lips. Quiet, quiet...  
  
"Go back to your room with Ein now, okay? When Faye comes back tell her to come in here to get some food."  
  
"Yuh, yuh," Ed said, and tiptoed into her room.  
  
JET "BLACK DOG" BLACK  
  
Jet sat on the bed and brushed his hand through Gren's hair. He shifted, but lie peacefully.  
  
Jet sighed and put his hands in his lap. When Gren was sleeping in his bed, he would sleep in Spikes, but Spike hadn't been back in awhile so they didn't have to share.  
  
This was a slight disappointment.  
  
Jet grew more worried about Spike as the hours went on. After his shower the day before, he just left - and, hadn't come back. Jet was sure there was an obvious reason for his absence, but Jet worried too much for the sake of the poofy-headed prick sometimes.  
  
Gren stirred, brushed his fingers across his forehead, opened his eyes.  
  
"You feel better?" Jet asked.  
  
Gren smiled.  
  
"Much."  
  
"You cough up any more blood?"  
  
"None. I think I'm healing well."  
  
Gren's teeth were white, without a tint of blood on them. He had brushed his teeth before he had gone to sleep, but that had been several hours ago. He must be healing.  
  
"Good. You'll be on your feet and out the door in no time."  
  
"Yes."  
  
There was a long moment of quiet. Jet wanted to speak, but felt that Gren needed that moment, so he continued his silence.  
  
"Jet, I - I mean, I - I have to thank you. Twice you've saved me. There was a time when I could help myself, but now - well, thank you."  
  
"...You're welcome," Jet said, a soft blush escaping to his cheeks. Gren blushed also.  
  
Jet wasn't sure how it happened. He thought he was going to stand up again, but he wasn't standing, he was still sitting, but with Gren on his lap, their lips latched and Gren working at getting Jet's clothes undone.  
  
Jet didn't know what to do. Should he resist? Should he flow with it? He knew Gren goals was the whole way, but should Jet make him stop at petting, or let him do what he wanted?  
  
Gren didn't seem the sexual person, more like sex was a rarity to him, and maybe this was something he had to do, in thanks? Or did Gren feel something for him? What did Jet feel?  
  
Gren's hands were on his bare chest now, and Jet decided to just go with it. Gren's hands were not too incredibly soft, well used it seemed for whatever he did for a living, but they were gentle, with a woman's touch.  
  
Jet started unbuttoning Gren's shirt, but Gren pushed his hands away quickly. No? Okay, self-concious maybe.  
  
But Jet felt like insisting. He tried it again, wanting to feel the sensation of bare skin under his hands - but Gren resisted. Maybe it was the metal of his left hand that made Gren oppose. Damn it.  
  
Gren's hands were at his waist, trying at getting his pants down. His kisses left Jets lips and trailed down to his neck. Jet put his hands up the back of Gren's shirt. Gren let him, so Jet didn't try much else. He didn't want to push it.  
  
His pants were down to his knees, but because of his boots they weren't getting much more off then they already were. Gren's gentle hands ran down his chest - across his scars - down the muscles of his stomach -  
  
Jet's fingers pressed into Gren's back and Gren gave a small squeak of pain.  
  
Damnit, Jet, don't hurt the guy.  
  
Jet loosened his grip. Gren's hands traveled downward, and Jet felt himself gasp involuntarily. He didn't quite realize how excited he was about this until now.  
  
Gren took him in his hands. Jet took deep breaths.  
  
"Spike - " Jet murmured.  
  
Wait.  
  
Spike?  
  
Shit.  
  
Gren pulled back.  
  
"No, don't stop - "  
  
"I didn't realize - " Gren swallowed hard.  
  
"Didn't realize? No, me and Spike, we're not - "  
  
"No, I - I shouldn't've assumed - "  
  
Jet sat, stunned.  
  
"I'm sorry," Gren said softly, stood up and limped to the bathroom.  
  
Jesus.  
  
Jet pulled his pants up. 


	7. Vicious Jealousy

Authors notes: Hey my faithful reviewers! Some of you are figuring out what's going on, but keep reading, you'll love it!!  
  
SPIKE SPEIGEL  
  
The bar was nearly empty.  
  
Three old guys sat at a table playing cards, bickering about something, and a couple sat in the corner making out.  
  
Spike leaned his chin into the palm of his hand. The bartender was a young man, he seemed in his early twenties and quite possibly he had a high bounty on his head. Then again, on Jupiter, everyone had a high bounty on their head.  
  
Spike ordered a drink and looked across the bar. The couple that were making out were getting ready to leave, obviously ready for a little more action than spit distribution. Spike rolled his eyes.  
  
"So what's your story?" the bartender asked.  
  
"My story? You don't want to hear about it. Too damn long, too damn boring, you'll've hung yourself by the time I'm done talking."  
  
"Oh, come on," the bartender smiled and pushed a drink to Spike. "You're a new face. You've been here all night. What's up?"  
  
"Tch," Spike scoffed and took a sip. "My ship broke down. Waiting for repairs. The guy I work with brought home this guy. This guy, he seriously looks like a chick. Wouldn't be surprised if he had tits." Sip. "Anyway, this guy had serious problems. Coughing up blood, passed out, the whole deal. And my partner - Jet - he's all, 'We gotta take care of him, he's hurt, he's sick' - but I just KNOW Jet just wants a piece of his ass."  
  
"Ah. Jealousy."  
  
"What? No! No, no, no - I tried the gay scene once, okay? It was a disaster. I'm strictly a ladies man."  
  
"You don't live here."  
  
"Obviously. I'm not jealous. Just sort of irritated."  
  
"That your partner likes this guy?"  
  
"Well, yeah. My partner - he's not really my partner, he just makes me breakfast and fixes the ship, really - well, he's kind of anal retentive, ya know?"  
  
"Ah. But no jealousy?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Alright. Well, talk to him, hmm? Tell hi how you feel, maybe patch things up. As good as it is for my business, nobody likes an alcoholic."  
  
Spike scoffed.  
  
"Yeah. Sure."  
  
VICIOUS  
  
They found another phone number and it proved to be the number of a bar where Gren played his saxophone. They had gone to one already, but neither the manager nor the workers knew where he was.  
  
Vicious went to the second bar alone. He had a feeling that this would be it, the jackpot. He knew that Gren would soon be his.  
  
Vicious ordered a drink, just a shot of peach schnapps, but did not drink it.  
  
"There's no music," he said as the bartender washed a spot of the bar next to him with a dirty white towel.  
  
"It's a Wednesday. Our musician on Sundays and Wednesdays hasn't come in yet. I'm sure he'll be here soon."  
  
Vicious stared at the small stage at the end of the bar. That's where Gren would be if he hadn't gone MIA.  
  
"Gren?"  
  
"Yes! You know him?"  
  
"I did, once. I'm trying to find him."  
  
"Haven't seen him since Sunday, at about 2:30-3:00 am."  
  
"Ah. If you see him, give me a call."  
  
Vicious gave the bartender the number of Lin's phone, as he did not trust giving out his phone.  
  
"Yeah, sure. No problem."  
  
Vicious drank his schnapps in one unsatisfied gulp.  
  
"Gren? The saxophonist?"  
  
Vicious' attention perked but he did not immediately react.  
  
"Why, yes."  
  
"I seen him."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"He turned my down Sunday night. I followed him home."  
  
Vicious didn't like that. He turned to the voice. A big man, a hefty 6'5" Vicious guessed, sat at the bar two stools down.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I'd love to tell you. But I'd rather not."  
  
"At your place maybe?" Vicious' narrow eyes raised with his eyebrows.  
  
The man seemed to like that idea.  
  
"Yeah, that could be arranged."  
  
Vicious went home with the man that night, enjoying the way the man was chasing him but loving even more that the man was going to get more than he bargained for.  
  
"So? You followed him? Then what?"  
  
"He was being a bitch. I tried to kiss him, he wouldn't let me, he ruined my pants. I - well, I'm the bigger man. I went to show him, ya don't mess with the bigger man, ya know? Then, BAM! Outta the blue, I'm bein' shot at. A bullet hit me too - " the man lifted his shirt and showed Vicious a huge bandage. "-see? And Jesus, this guy, thought he'd killed me. I'd played dead, cause I'm smart, I knew that I was the one with the disadvantage."  
  
"This man who shot you - you saw him?"  
  
"Hell yeah. Had a cigar in his mouth, musta been an older guy, but still damn strong. Had a trenchcoat - he gave it to the little guy, the guy you're looking for - a hat, and a scar over one eye, metal plate around it - "  
  
Vicious looked at the man.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Yeah. And when he took this coat off, he had a fake arm."  
  
"Was it good for you?"  
  
"Huh? Yeah, it woulda been, if I hadn't been shot."  
  
Vicious was on him in a second. The blade of his Katana at the big man' throat, the man pressed against the wall.  
  
"Listen to me. Pay attention. Gren is special, you understand? He is mine, and no one - no one - will defile him that way, you understand me? You understand?"  
  
It happened too quickly, and maybe the decision was impulsive and too imprudent, but it felt good. The blade of Vicious' katana slid through skin, through tissue, through bone, and there was a thud as the head hit the floor, and thumpa-thumpa-thumpa as it rolled across the room, and a soft bloop-bloop-bloop as blood puddle to the floor.  
  
Vicious left. 


	8. Intensity

GRENCIA MARS ELIJAH GUO ECKNER  
  
Gren decided he should go home.  
  
Jet had begged him to stay, insisting he was not better yet.  
  
Spike said it was bullshit, and that he didn't care either way.  
  
Jet said he should stay with them until the Bebop was fixed.  
  
Spike said he wouldn't share his bed.  
  
Jet said, fine he would.  
  
Spike changed his mind.  
  
Gren knew he was causing problems.  
  
"Whatever, Pretty-boy can sleep in that bed, since, you know, Jet and I have known each other longer, it wouldn't be so weird, so you can share the bed, Jet."  
  
Jet scowled at Spike.  
  
"Really, I'll just leave. It's no big deal."  
  
"No, not yet, really, you're not well enough - "  
  
"If he wasn't to leave, let him leave -"  
  
"Spike, quit being such a prick!"  
  
Gren could sense something in the under layer of what was happening.  
  
Spike's stare was filled with spite.  
  
Gren couldn't keep eye contact. He felt dirty, that he had stooped low and stole Spikes man, and that, to Gren, was an inexcusable sin.  
  
"Gren, don't worry, you're not invading. You should really relax; just a few more days off your feet will do you good."  
  
Gren hesitantly agreed. He knew he should leave as soon as possible, but something felt wrong in leaving so suddenly, as if something were waiting for him in the boundaries of this sanctuary. He felt selfish.  
  
Jet decided to go get groceries and to have Spike stay in the hotel with Gren.  
  
Gren knew this was a bad idea  
  
Spike was mad-pissed.  
  
VICIOUS  
  
The man that the oaf who tried to defile Gren described turned out to be named Jet Black. He owned a ship by the name of the Bebop, and to Vicious it sounded like a musical term.  
  
Jet and his crew were staying in a motel a few blocks from the doctor's office. Vicious supposed that was most surely where Gren was.  
  
Now to ponder.  
  
Why was Gren hiding out with this Jet character? He didn't know Vicious was searching for him; he had no way to know. He thought his assailant was dead.  
  
Perhaps this Jet character had a relationship with Gren.  
  
No. Vicious wouldn't let that happen.  
  
There was only one way to find out.  
  
To go to the motel, and force it out of him.  
  
GRENCIA MARS ELIJAH GUO ECKNER  
  
Spike seemed to smoke more when he was upset.  
  
"Spike.........I'm...I'm very sorry about all of this. I had no idea - I mean...I had really no idea that you and Jet -"  
  
"We're not."  
  
"...Oh."  
  
Gren lowered his eyes. These two men were confusing.  
  
Spike had smoked his cigarette down to the last inch, so he put it out and lit another. Gren cleared his throat.  
  
"I don't know...what it is between you two, but - I'm sorry if - Oh, Jesus, I ruin everything."  
  
Spike glanced at Gren. The corner of his mouth twitched.  
  
Gren put his face in his hands. Oh, god, the worst part about the hormones was the tears. No matter what he did, they always seemed to show up.  
  
"Hey - hey, don't cry - aw, come on, I didn't mean to make you cry - "  
  
Spike touched Gren's shoulder and sat by him. Gren squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the flow, and held his breath to the back of his throat, but that only caused hiccups.  
  
"I just get pissed sometimes - come on, man -"  
  
Gren leaned against Spikes chest, a few tortured squeals escaping him. Spike hesitantly put his arms around him.  
  
Gren felt his throat contract and blood bubble up from his throat. All this crying was only hurting him, but the more he tried, the harder it was to stop.  
  
"Hey, are you -"  
  
Gren pulled away and coughed blood onto his shirt until no more blood came. Spike sat in shock.  
  
"...I'm fine now. I'm alright."  
  
"Shit, you alright?"  
  
"I'm fine - " Gren said, feeling slightly disoriented  
  
"Let me help you. We'll get this shirt off and get you a new one," Spike said as he led Gren to the bathroom. Gren at first resisted, but let Spike progress in stripping him of his shirt.  
  
"We should really get you to the hospital - holy shit!"  
  
Gren covered himself. "It's cold, can you get me another shirt?"  
  
"You've got - "  
  
"Please."  
  
Spike stood in shock for a moment. After a few moments of staring, he gave Gren one of his shirts. Gren slipped it on.  
  
"You...I mean..."  
  
"It's nothing. I'd rather not talk about it."  
  
"Yeah, okay. No problem."  
  
"...I'd like to take a shower, as well, if that's allright?"  
  
"Yeah, it's fine. You can wear some of my pants - "  
  
"Please."  
  
Spike gave Gren a pair of pants to slip on after his shower, and sat on the bed to wait.  
  
Gren shut the door of the bathroom.  
  
He hung over the toilet and threw up, half of it vomit and the other half blood.  
  
Yes, maybe a shower would help. 


	9. Through Blue Eyes

VICIOUS  
  
They had arrived.  
  
They had talked to the manager, a nervous middle aged man who didn't require ID and preferred cash up front. He did not make eye contact with Vicious once, as if he had something to hide.  
  
Vicious was tempted to spare him from this wretched life but decided the better of it. He probed and interrogated and threatened until he was given a spare key to "Jet Black's" room.  
  
And there he was, standing in front of the door, hand raised and ready but frozen.  
  
It had been years.  
  
This would change his entire life in one explosive moment.  
  
"Sir? Are you alright?"  
  
"Fine, Lin. Let me do this myself. If I need backup I'll call."  
  
Lin bowed his head and walked away. Vicious put the key closer to the keyhole, but hesitated yet again.  
  
"Shit," he whispered to himself.  
  
He slid the key in, twisted, opened the door.  
  
On the bed sat not Gren, but a darker, heavier past.  
  
Spike Spiegel.  
  
Holy SHIT.  
  
Spike turned and looked at him and for several minutes they stared, neither expecting to stumble across one another and both astounded.  
  
In one moment, Spike stood and headed towards his guns, but Vicious sword was at the back of his neck, halting him.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"Me? What are YOU doing here?!"  
  
Vicious' lip curled, and he was tempted to run him through right there, but the bathroom door opened and Vicious was distracted.  
  
From the bathroom came a lanky, effeminate blue-eyed angel, glistening with the sheen of water, his hands behind his head to pull his hair back.  
  
"Gren."  
  
Gren looked up, and his eyes widened.  
  
Again stillness ensued.  
  
Vicious lowered his katana, walked to Gren. Gren drew back, pressing his back against the wall. Vicious drew closer, touching Gren's smooth face with his fingers.  
  
"Vicious."  
  
"I've found you."  
  
Gren glanced over Vicious' shoulder. Vicious narrowed his eyes, looked into the reflection in Gren's eyes. He saw a silhouette of Spike raising a gun. Vicious stabbed behind him. He heard Spike cry out, felt him stumble away from the sword, and through Gren's widening eyes, he saw Spike fall to the bed. He grabbed Gren by the wrist, left the motel room. Gren struggled.  
  
"No - he's going to die - Vicious, he's going to -"  
  
Vicious jerked him forward, forcing him to walk faster.  
  
"Come on -"  
  
"No, Vicious, we can't, Vicious, please -"  
  
Vicious grabbed Gren's waist and slung him over his shoulder. Gren struggled for a moment, but began coughing violently. Vicious pushed Gren into the back of the car he had rented, motioned for Lin to get in the drivers seat, and as he did, Vicious got into the back with Gren.  
  
As Lin began driving, Gren tried to unlock the door and get out. Vicious pulled him against his own body tightly, pressing his face against Gren's neck.  
  
"He's going to die! Vicious, you killed him, you bastard, you killed him -"  
  
"Gren, Gren, please - calm down. Calm down," Vicious whispered as he massaged Gren's shoulders. Gren wept into his hands, silent tears, woeful tears.  
  
It killed Vicious to see Gren this way.  
  
"He is not going to die, Gren. But I had to get you, I had to take you, because I was wrong, and I need you back now -"  
  
"No, Vicious, let me out!" Gren reached into the front seat to Lin. "Stop the car - please, stop the car -"  
  
Lin was gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white.  
  
"GREN!" Vicious pulled Gren back and pressed him against the back seat.  
  
"It's all right now, Gren. It's all right," Vicious said softly, pressing Gren's face into his neck, feeling the tears drip down his neck, soaking his hair. Gren pressed his fingers against Vicious' back, rocking back and forth, his crying continuous.  
  
It killed Vicious to see Gren this way. 


	10. Honey Kisses

JET "BLACK DOG" BLACK  
  
Jet returned to find Spike bleeding and unconscious on the bed. It seemed his wound was not in a vital area, but one never knew.  
  
"Oh my god - Spike!"  
  
Jet ran to Spike and shook him to wake him up.  
  
"Get up! Get up, Spike!"  
  
Spike shook his head and groaned.  
  
"What happened? Spike? What happened?"  
  
"Jesus, Vicious, found me, Christ, after all these years -"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Vicious. Took Gren. Gren has tits."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Stabbed me, took Gren, I was off guard, couldn't defend myself."  
  
Jet bandaged Spike up decently enough.  
  
"Ed can hack into his files, we'll find him."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Spike.?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"...what do you mean Gren has tits?"  
  
GRENCIA MARS ELIJAH GUO ECKNER  
  
Gren had wished day in and day out that Vicious would return to him.  
  
But this wasn't the way.  
  
It was all wrong.  
  
Even when Vicious took him home and made love to him, it was wrong.  
  
But so damn right.  
  
He was caught up in Vicious' web. He couldn't, he wouldn't, and yet he did, and when he did, he cried out Vicious' name, over and over, begged and pleaded for more, and yet, he did not want it. But he did.  
  
He had killed Spike.  
  
It was all his fault.  
  
Vicious had raised the sword, but Gren had been the murderer.  
  
Vicious had enjoyed his breasts, as did every other man that had courted him, but with Vicious it was different.  
  
He had slept with Vicious before he had breasts, so the magic was gone. His breasts were merely an added bonus.  
  
But Vicious damn well knew how to tease him. He played with them, making Gren writhe and squeal, and once Gren began to beg, he would stop, leave, and come back later. And do it again.  
  
Once when Vicious left the room he saw Lin sitting against the wall outside the room. Gren saw it in his eyes.  
  
Vicious had him in his web, too.  
  
Vicious liked to be dominant. He did it the way he wanted, and sometimes Gren didn't like it. But then Vicious would kiss him, with his sweet mouth and honey kisses, make him melt and beg for him to love him.  
  
And Gren would implore him.  
  
At the moment, Gren knew he should stop. Vicious had him where he wanted him, sucking with his sweet mouth at Gren's tender feminine skin. Gren tried to beg for him to stop, but the begging became pleading for more.  
  
Gren felt Vicious' manhood pressing into his thigh, insistent, needy, but Gren wasn't ready, or, he didn't want to be ready. He said no, repeated it, but was caught in Vicious' dance, his masquerade, his web.  
  
Gren's mouth surrounded Vicious, took him into himself and let him play his game. He heard Vicious moan, sigh, and occasionally whimper, and knew Vicious was utterly vulnerable at this point.  
  
But he could not bring himself to stop.  
  
He hated it, but he had to admit to himself.  
  
He liked being caught in Vicious' web.  
  
Vicious release was as sweet as his honey kisses, a deep sigh and expulsion. Gren's tears were as insistant as Vicious ebbing manhood once was.  
  
Vicious' comforts were not consoling.  
  
Gren was a murderer. And he enjoyed it. 


	11. Blood and Tears

Authors note: I've been updating like crazy, I know, But I'm winding down. I know what's going to happen but my inspiration is slowing down - PLEASE REVIEW!!! Even if you already reviewed!!  
  
JET "BLACK DOG" BLACK  
  
Thank god Ed was a genius hacker.  
  
They had found where Vicious had now resided, and decided they'd go after them as soon as possible.  
  
Turned out, Spike and Vicious had a fling years back.  
  
Spike wasn't sure what he wanted. Jet tried his best to make the situation comfortable for him.  
  
Maybe Spike still felt for this Vicious shit.  
  
"Well, you know, I try to hate him, but it's damn hard to hate someone who you told that you loved once, you know?"  
  
"Well, yeah. I get it...I guess..." Jet rubbed his forehead.  
  
"Gren knew his name. They knew each other, damnit..." Spike ran his fingers through his hair. Jet reached over and ran his own fingers through Spike's hair. It was so soft.  
  
"Maybe he didn't know that I...that I would be here. Maybe it was purely for Gren that he came here."  
  
"Does thinking that make you feel better?"  
  
"No."  
  
Jet put his hands in his lap and looked down at them. He felt humbled by Spike's sudden confessional.  
  
And maybe a little bit jealous.  
  
"Spike, the truth is, I-" Jet hesitated. "-I lo-err, I'm sorry things couldn't be easier for you. But right now, we go save the damsel in distress, hmm? Worry about it later?"  
  
"Yeah. Later," Spike stood and looked Jet in the eyes. Jet looked away first.  
  
He was afraid of what Spike would see.  
  
GRENCIA MARS ELIJAH GUO ECKNER  
  
He had thrown up at least four times, more blood than vomit. It was becoming harder to breathe. As Gren sat, hugging the toilet, he thought.  
  
He thought about his life. His purpose.  
  
The only thing that gave his life purpose was Vicious...and now that Vicious returned, he felt the familiar occurrence of addiction. Hooked on a drug you know is killing you, and you hate it, yet the high is so intense, you couldn't stop riding the ride.  
  
Maybe he should end it right then, and show Vicious that he can resist.  
  
It was so tempting, to throw himself out the window, feel the wind beneath his wings until the final culmination when he hit the ground. It was so high up, there was no way he could survive.  
  
Or to press cold steel against the side of his head, or better, in his mouth so it could clean out the feeling of Vicious' honey kisses. To feel the final climax as he squeezed the trigger. He might not even hear the gunshot go off.  
  
Maybe to slip into a warm bath and pick up a razor to his wrists and -  
  
But he wasn't strong enough to resist. He couldn't resist Vicious. He wanted to dance the dance, and be caught up in his web.  
  
He made himself sick. 


	12. Final Requiem

SPIKE SPIEGEL  
  
They had snuck upstairs and, thanks to Spike's knowledge of the Red Dragon, didn't get caught.  
  
"What room did Ed say he was in?" Spike said softly.  
  
"496, I think," Jet replied.  
  
They peeked around the corner of the wall.  
  
Down the hall they saw a dark-haired man with his hair slicked back. He was leaning against the wall as if waiting for something.  
  
"That guy's in front of the door we want. What do we do?"  
  
Spike glanced at Jet's brawn.  
  
"Knock him out."  
  
Jet nodded. He went down the hall, a little too cocky for Spike's taste, letting the guy know he was there. The guy turned to look at Jet, and Spike was damned surprised at how fast Jet could go for being such a big guy.  
  
Jet waved Spike onward and they approached the door. Before they could get too close, Spike put his arm on Jet's.  
  
"Jet, I want you to know...whatever happens in there...you...you'll always be my number one big man, alright?"  
  
Jet stared at Spike for a moment.  
  
"I love you too."  
  
Spike looked up at Jet, and their eyes met.  
  
Yeah, that's what he'd been trying to say.  
  
"Don't shoot him, okay, Jet? That's my job."  
  
"Yeah, okay."  
  
They both raised their guns, and got close to the door. Spike swung it open at pointed his gun inside.  
  
Vicious sat at a table near two large windows that extended from the floor to the ceiling. The bright sun made his figure a mere silhouette.  
  
"Vicious, where's Gren? Why'd you take him that way? What's going on?"  
  
"So many questions."  
  
"Vicious," Spike growled.  
  
Vicious stood, his back to them.  
  
"I was wrong. You're still brooding over it, aren't you? But you forget - It was you who betrayed me!!" Vicious shouted and turned, katana in hand.  
  
It happened suddenly. Vicious' sword shined as it advanced, and three shots were fired. Gren jumped forward, pushing Vicious' katana out of the way. Two gunshots ripped through him, one sailed behind him and smashed into the windows. He stumbled back from the force of the shots, gripping Vicious in a tight embrace. He slipped back off the sill of the window.  
  
"NO! Shit!" Spike ran to the glass-less windows, watched the two bodies fall.  
  
"Shit, no! Jet, did you shoot? Did you fucking shoot?!" Spike pointed the gun outside.  
  
Jet dropped his gun. "Oh, god."  
  
"Did you shoot?! I told you not to shoot!"  
  
"Oh, god..."  
  
"Jet!" Spike slapped him. Jet looked at Spike, his eyes filling with tears. Spike grabbed him by the sides of his head.  
  
"I told you not to shoot!!"  
  
Jet pulled away.  
  
"I know! I killed him! Jesus!" Jet pushed Spike away.  
  
Spike's rage slowed down as he watched Jet sit down and cry into his arms. Spike approached and put one hand on Jet's cybernetic arm.  
  
"Jet...It's okay. It's alright. We've gotta get out of here."  
  
* * * *  
  
The part for the Bebop came in, and the mechanic had fixed it. He insisted that they'd might as well have gotten a new one, and Jet insisted that the Bebop was a beaut and there was nothing wrong with it.  
  
Spike felt strange leaving the motel, even though he was relieved to get back to normal Bounty-Hunting life. It was weird to leave the place where he and Jet had made love for the first time.  
  
It was strange knowing that Gren was dead, when he had come to them in such a state. Spike felt bad for being so damn jealous. Gren was an okay guy.  
  
It was stranger knowing that Vicious was dead.  
  
Spike had gotten all of his clothes ready and in a suitcase, prepared to be packed into the Bebop. He paused before he left, looking back at the room. He stepped forward and heard a crunch. He looked down.  
  
A single red rose.  
  
And then He knew.  
  
Vicious was -  
  
Fin. 


	13. Authors Notes

Authors notes:  
  
Thanks for all you faithful reviewers! I couldn't have done it without you!!  
  
I know, the end. I don't know what to say about it. Leave room for your own opinions.  
  
I felt bad for killing Gren off, because I love Gren, but it had to happen. I will curse myself until the end of my days.  
  
The rose? For any true Cowboy Bebop fan, you know the symbol. I was watching ep. 5, Ballad of Fallen Angels while I was brainstorming the story idea.  
  
I may work on another Cowboy Bebop fic. I am currently working on a Trigun fic, but it's not posted yet.  
  
Thanks again to all you kind reviewers! I take my stories to heart and try hard to do all I can to make a story good! I love you guys!  
  
Kisses  
  
~Madmax 


End file.
